


Bar Fight

by MrSpockify



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: M/M, wrenchers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1848064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpockify/pseuds/MrSpockify
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunk Mr. Numbers wants to mess with his partner, but when a jealous Mr. Wrench gets violent, it's suddenly not quite as funny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bar Fight

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a tumblr post by freudsfieldday about Numbers translating things people say to Wrench incorrectly for his own shits and grins. I just couldn't not write that.

Numbers was pretty sure he was drunk off his ass, to be fair, so he didn’t really think he could be held completely responsible for his actions. He couldn’t even stand up straight, so that meant he couldn’t _think_ straight, right? Right.

Downing another drink, he looked back and forth around the bar, from his partner on his left to the empty seat on his right to the pretty girl in the corner of the room. When she refused to look his way, he turned drunkenly to Wrench and started talking about… He wasn’t even sure. He was just sure he was slurring his words together and hiccupping after every third word.

Wrench made a face and shook his head. _I have no idea what you’re saying,_ he signed. Wrench seemed to be much less drunk than him, Numbers noticed, though he was sure they had both drank the same amount. Or had Numbers finished off Wrench’s drinks for him…

Someone occupied the seat to his right, then, so Numbers waved off his partner and turned to the newcomer, a well-dressed gentleman with an expensive style of drink. He was tall and blond and thin as a rail, but not unattractive. When the guy realized he was being stared at, he smiled and nodded.

“Nice to meet you,” the newcomer greeted. “I’m Bradley.”

“Enchanté,” Numbers replied, sloppily grinning. “I’m…” He hesitated, searching his mind for a fake name to give. After a moment, he quickly added, “Dick.” He snorted and started laughing hysterically, banging a hand loudly on the bar in front of him. He didn’t notice Bradley staring at him strangely.

Numbers felt a tap at his shoulder and turned around to see Wrench frantically asking what was going on that was so funny. With another snort, Numbers signed, _He said you look like a yeti._ At the shocked expression on his partner’s face, Numbers turned back to Bradley.

“Now where were we?” he slurred, giving an exaggerated wink.

“Um… Why is your friend staring at me like that?” Bradley furrowed his brow, looking over Numbers’ head at Wrench. Wrench was glaring, and Bradley looked confused and defensive. Numbers suppressed more laughter.

“He had a bad day,” he insisted, flicking his wrist in dismissal.

“Well tell him to stop staring at me,” Bradley complained, taking a drink. “It’s weird.”

There was another tap on Number’s shoulder, so he turned to his partner. _Did he just call me weird?_ Wrench signed angrily.

_No,_ Numbers replied, _he said he likes my beard._ At that, Wrench looked even a tad angrier, and a bit more confused, too. _We’re flirting,_ Numbers teased, grinning smugly. He turned back around.

“Nice night tonight,” he said incoherently, taking another swig of his drink. Bradley nodded slightly, still looking over his head at Wrench. “Don’t pay attention to him, he’s just grumpy.”

“It’s a little hard not to pay attention to him when he’s looking at me like that,” Bradley said, laughing. Still, he complied and looked at Numbers directly now, ignoring the other man. “So are you two together, then? How did you meet each other?”

Another tap on his shoulder. Numbers sighed and turned around, signing impatiently. _What?_

_What is he saying to you?_ Wrench demanded, and Numbers could tell he was getting jealous. He was getting tight-mouthed and his ears were turning red, something Numbers secretly thought was very endearing. He held back his glee and put on an arrogant expression to mess with his partner.

_He wants to know if I’d like to come home with him tonight instead of with you,_ he bragged. Wrench’s eyes widened adorably. _He said he wanted to know what my beard feels like between his thighs._ As soon as he finished signing it, Numbers regretted it.

Wrench jumped up from his seat and threw his drink onto the floor, smashing it and sending shards of glass everywhere. He lunged over to Bradley, grabbing him up by the front of his shirt. Numbers watched in horror as the lean guy was picked up easily by his partner and shook a few times like it was nothing.

“What the Hell,” Bradley screamed, trying to pull away. He turned to Numbers and reached out for help. “Make him stop,” he begged. “ _Make him stop_!”

Numbers could only stare dumbly, his mouth hanging open like a dead fish. His partner threw Bradley to the ground and, after signing a few crude things to him as he stood back up, started throwing punch after punch. He hit the man in the face and abdomen and anywhere else he couldn’t shield quickly enough. Bradley, meanwhile, was screaming and trying desperately to run away. After enduring quite the beating, he managed to escape with a bloody and battered face while cradling his most-likely-bruised stomach gingerly, all the while moaning pathetically to the whole world.

Slowly, Wrench turned back around and sat beside Numbers again. He ordered another drink silently, and the bartender seemed too frightened to say no. No one else took the other seat next to Numbers again, and he was inwardly very thankful for that.

Numbers knew he should have apologized and told the truth, but he certainly could not bring himself to do so. His guilt was immense, but his embarrassment was even larger. He kept his mouth shut and sipped at his drink quietly.

It couldn’t have been _all_ his fault, though. Wrench was a bit of a hot head anyway, and Numbers was incredibly drunk. He couldn’t be held responsible for what he did when he was this drunk… Right? He glanced over at his partner, who was calmly drinking and slowly scanning the bar with his eyes.

Right.


End file.
